


There You'll Be

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Episode Related, Future, Romance, Season/Series 05, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-18
Updated: 2005-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-27 09:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12078717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Justin thinks he's going mad. Spoilers for 513.





	There You'll Be

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

The first time Justin thinks he sees Brian he chokes on the double Beam in his hand and rather suavely treats his companion for the evening to a spray of whisky as he tries to replenish his oxygen supply and force liquor out of his lungs. Once he’s stopped fighting for air, dried off his date and made his humiliated excuses to pretend to escape to the men’s room he almost runs to the lobby of the gallery where he’s attending an art showing and spends a frantic ten minutes scouring every nook and cranny he sees for the man he once agreed to marry. Only when he’s out on the sidewalk looking with desperate eyes at the busy New York night does he realise that Brian isn’t there and that he never was. The sharp pain of loss and disappointment nearly sends him to his knees and he hates that even the thought of Brian can still do this to him after all this time. 

It’s been just over a year since they’ve talked and Justin is disgusted with himself that he *still* needs another ten minutes in the men’s room before he can face going back inside and resuming his life without Brian once more. 

The ache in his chest persists for nearly a week before he forces himself back into his studio and paints his emotions out of his soul and onto canvas. Then he spends the week after *that* furious with himself because what he intended to paint somewhere along the line became a pair of tender hazel eyes set in a curiously vulnerable face and now Brian’s eyes follow him wherever he goes when he is in his studio.

When he realises that he’s been walking around his own studio with his eyes trained on the floor just so that he doesn’t have to look into Brian’s, Justin thinks that maybe he’s not as good at moving on with his life as he thought he was. 

The portrait remains because Justin can’t make himself throw Brian away. Again.

~*~*~*

The second time Justin sees Brian he is picking up ingredients for that night’s meal of pasta and salad and he’s so startled that the tomato he was gently squeezing in his hand to test for ripeness explodes under the sudden increase in pressure and drips juice all down his new white jeans. This time Justin doesn’t hesitate, he runs for the exit of the little food market down the street from his little apartment and arrives on the sidewalk just in time to see a cab pull away from the curb and into the traffic. All Justin can see through the rear window is the back of a dark head that could belong to any one of a million men in New York and he knows is not the one he wants.

He goes back into the store, buys a TV dinner of macaroni cheese and spends the evening refusing to think of lazy nights making love and staring into the face of God.

~*~*~*

The third time Justin sees Brian he is cold, wet and tired and so homesick for his old life that he can barely tolerate his feet touching the hated New York sidewalk that leads him to his equally hated apartment. His art isn’t setting the world alight like he expected but is generating enough interest that he is in nearly constant demand to make the rounds of the city art scene and schmooze with the cultural elite. He’s a fucking success and that rainy New York night he is so fucking *pissed* at his own talent for making all this possible that when he sees a man standing in the park shadows opposite his apartment building, the adrenaline caused by this ridiculous anger has him darting into the street and dodging cars before he even realises he’s changed direction.

This time when Justin realises Brian isn’t there he allows himself to cry as he leans against a New York streetlight and wishes for someone to come along and take him some place special. He closes his eyes wearily against the rain and sighs. Christ, *anyplace* but New York fucking City.

~*~*~*

The fourth time Justin sees Brian he’s dancing the night away at one of his regular haunts and in the middle of a group of friends from his neighbourhood. This time he refuses to chase after him because he’s learned through bitter experience that chasing Brian inevitably ends in losing Brian and he really can’t take another confirmation of what he believes is the onset of his insanity tonight. Tonight he’s pretending that the group of friends he’s with are older than him, comfortable with their familiarity with each other in a way that his chic New York friends never could be and that they look on him with love and that same familiarity. 

Tonight he’s not Justin Taylor, artist. Tonight he is Justin Taylor, Boy Wonder of Liberty Avenue and the twink that tamed the heart of Brian Kinney and he smiles when he recognises the feeling of warmth in his body as contentment. He holds Brian’s eyes across the dance floor for long minutes and when the man melts away into the night he still smiles because he knows now who he is and he’s going the fuck *home*.

~*~*~*

The fifth time Justin sees Brian he is standing surrounded by luggage outside the loft door and glaring at the arrogant, infuriating bastard as he steps from the elevator and stops dead in surprise clutching his ever present briefcase and looking so good in his designer suit that Justin wants to cry.

“You *cunt*.” Justin stalks forward and steps into Brian’s personal space, glaring up at him with flashing blue eyes and his mouth stretched into a thin, hard line. “You complete and utter fucking *cunt*.”

Brian raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to one side in consideration. “If this is some new big city seduction technique, Sunshine, it needs some work.”

Justin’s eyes narrow warningly and he pokes Brian squarely in the middle of his chest. “You. Were. There.”

Brian looks for a moment as though he is going to deny the accusation but then he nods, unashamed. “Yes.”

Justin closes his eyes briefly, amazed at just how much he needed to hear that simple affirmation from Brian’s lips. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes again. “I thought I was going insane.” He scowls at Brian. “You’re fucking lucky I finally thought to hit Ted and Cynthia up for your schedule for the last few months. How long would you have let this go on if I hadn’t?”

Despite the sly smile on Brian’s lips, his eyes are liquid with pain that somehow Justin was the only one to ever see clearly. He shrugs. “It’s only time, right?”

“Bullshit,” Justin’s hands clench on Brian’s expensive lapels and he all but snarls in his lover’s face, “It’s our *life* and it’s starting *now*.” He glares up into Brian’s eyes and his fingers twist further into the delicate material, pressing so hard against Brian’s chest that he can feel each pounding beat of his heart. “I’m not you, Brian. I don’t want the bright lights and the big city. I can be a success anywhere, be the best homosexual I can be *anywhere*.” He stares into Brian’s eyes and allows the other man to see the love and need that he has been trying to forget for all the time they have been apart. “I want *you* and I’ve come home.”

Brian’s eyes are speculative as he looks down at the intense face raised to his and he smirks. “Is that right?”

Justin nods, not trusting his voice to speak.

Slowly a smile takes the place of the smirk and Brian nods once before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to Justin’s forehead. “Then get your ass inside and let’s fuck.” He keeps his eyes on Justin’s face as one of his trademark smiles bursts forth and he backs up pulling Brian along with him until they’re outside the loft door. They’re both trembling as they fumble through opening the door, kicking Justin’s luggage inside and then stumbling in after it. Panting they slam the door shut and then they come together, lips moving too fast against each other to allow them to properly appreciate the sensation, just grateful in this moment to feel the other breathe. 

“Come to bed.” Eventually Brian cups Justin’s face in his and smiles openly in the way that he has only ever been able to do with this man. 

Justin smiles back and nods. “Okay.” He frowns as Brian releases him and backs away, already missing his touch. “Brian?”

“Sunshine, come to bed.” Brian backs away still smiling and holds out his hands in invitation. “Lock that fucking door and come to bed.” 

Justin laughs, locks the fucking door and runs into Brian’s arms to forget New York ever existed.


End file.
